


Fireman's Honor

by deniallisstrong



Series: Ziam Tumblr Drabbles (ifigureditout) [12]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Fireman Liam, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 07:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11352291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deniallisstrong/pseuds/deniallisstrong
Summary: “We gotta get you out of here,” the man persists, stepping closer to the blaze. Closer to Zayn.And then Zayn catches the fireman’s amber eyes, looking brighter than Zayn knew was possible, orange reflecting through them, going clear past the opaque mask.“Time to go, uhh…” The boy moves his hand in a circle as if that will suddenly get Zayn to do something, react like he should be reacting.But Zayn can’t get out his name, can’t even take in a breath. His mouth won’t work, his lungs won’t work, and he’s damn well sure his limbs won’t work.(Or where Zayn's terrible cooking skills give him a bit of trouble, but the hot fireman that's come to save him seems to make it all alright.) (Based on a prompt foundhere.)





	Fireman's Honor

When Zayn had first picked up the cake mix in the store, eyes lighting up, Harry’d just laughed. Shaking his head, he warned, “You’re gonna kill ‘im. Or me.”

“Shut your mouth, you dickwad.” Zayn mumbled, jabbing him in the side with his finger. “Louis’ll love it,” he’d promised before throwing the box into the cart.

And, well, Harry had almost been right. Except it’s himself he’s almost killed this time, having accidentally set fire to the now ash-stricken mass in his oven.

He hadn’t known that was possible. Not really.

Yet. Here he is, standing in the middle of his kitchen. He’s watching the thick, gray smoke swirl closer and closer to him, the deafening smoke detector beeping at least every second to tell him something he’s well aware of at this point. 

All from a fucking chocolate cake gone awry.

Zayn can’t take his eyes off of the burning orange, the flames beginning to lick up from the stove to the cabinets.

The reality only sets in when there’s a smash and his door slams open, hitting the wall with a  _thump._ Zayn jolts at the noise, eyes widening as he begins to finally process the scene in front of him. Realizing for the first time how, just maybe, it’s getting a little bit harder to breathe with every second that passes.

“Is anybody in here?” The yell comes before he does.

But when the cause of the slamming door rushes through, all of Zayn’s worry is once again gone as he does a quick once-over of the firefighter in front of him.

It’s hard, of course, to get a really good look, considering the (at least) five bulky layers covering the man and the quick movement of his body as he takes in the area.

“We gotta get you out of here,” the man persists, stepping closer to the blaze. Closer to Zayn.

And then Zayn catches the fireman’s amber eyes, looking brighter than Zayn knew was possible, orange reflecting through them, going clear past the opaque mask. 

The man’s eyes are so golden, so trusting. And then his forehead is scrunched up, his eyebrows knitting together, and there’s a pity behind those eyes. A flash of fear.

“Time to go, uhh…” The boy moves his hand in a circle as if that will suddenly get Zayn to do something, react like he should be reacting.

But Zayn can’t get out his name, can’t even take in a breath. His mouth won’t work, his lungs won’t work, and he’s damn well sure his limbs won’t work. 

From the corner of his eye, he calmly takes note, as if from far away, that the fire has quickly eaten through all his cabinets, now quickly approaching him.

But that still doesn’t get him to actually  _do_  anything. Instead, there’s one, other small thought that sneaks up for air from the back of his mind: his pants are still in the dryer.

And there’s a concentrated heat on his legs, the smoke tickling skin where it shouldn’t be.

His eyes trail down, and it’s like all of his public speaking nightmares wrapped up into one. Because he’s standing there, surrounded by a raging fire in his own kitchen, unable to move. And he’s in his boxers. 

Not to mention they’re Superman themed,  _Man of Steel_ in big letters right in the front.

In a font you cannot miss. And. Especially a font a fit firefighter, trained to pick up the most minute details in any sort of emergency, cannot miss. 

Not only is Louis’ cake gone, his apartment in ruin. But now Zayn’ll have to live the rest of his life knowing some hot fireman had to see him in his boxers. Zayn Malik: the worst cook in the world, but also the most embarrassing man in the world. 

Louis will never let him live this down.

“Okay, mystery man, looks like I gotta help, eh?” The boy huffs after a moment of silence, jogging the last few steps up to Zayn. Grunting, his movements are certain as he snakes his arms under Zayn’s armpits. He scoops him up over one shoulder as Zayn’s knees buckle, the shock finally jolting through his whole body like the kick after a gunshot.

Shifting Zayn around so that his torso is all the way around the firefighter’s back, he huffs as he firmly grasps on to Zayn’s bare legs and one dangling arm hanging around the fireman’s (tight) abs. There’s no embarrassment in any of the motions, and, thank the Lord, the firefighter keeps his mouth shut about the underwear.

As he begins to shuffle along, carrying all of Zayn’s weight with him, Zayn exhales. It’s painful to watch, feeling every movement all too well. He knows fully well how heavy he must be and how much strain the fireman body’s has to be under, all because Zayn’s too dumb to know how to walk right. 

But instead of saying any of that, saying sorry, or even finally saying his name like he should have a couple of minutes ago. Instead, as the fireman starts his descent down the ladder, he just gushes, the words coming out before Zayn has time to properly think them through.

“Your muscles are  _bulging,”_ Zayn squeaks into the thick fabric of the firefighter’s shoulder, feeling his biceps contract with every grip against the metal bars. 

“Was it hot in there or was it just you?” Zayn continues, giggling as he nuzzles into the fireman’s neck. 

There’s a part of him, a very deep part of his mind, that tells him this isn’t normal. That he’s making a complete arse of himself. But at this moment, he doesn’t care. It’s like he’s floating on clouds, clouds made of iron, moving him effortlessly away from danger.

The man lets out a breathy chuckle that, to Zayn, sounds like tinkling wind chimes. Taking the last few steps down the ladder, he gets out, “Glad you’re feeling good enough to make sounds now at least.”

“I’m fineeeee,” Zayn mumbles lightly, head still completely pressed up against the man. “In fact, I’m more than fine. I’m  _flying_.” 

“Actually, mate, you’re in shock.” He corrects lightly, walking a few steps backwards until he finds the gurney behind him.

“I’m gonna set you down, okay?” He warns gently, bending down slightly as he slowly untangles Zayn from him.

“Mmm” is all Zayn replies, still trying to take in what the other man’s just said before he’s suddenly falling into the harsh fabric below. Hitting what feels like a cement block, he groans loudly, wanting to rub his suddenly pounding head but not finding the strength to do so. Instead, he just lays there, staring up into the black abyss above him, littered with circular lights and the occasional airplane flying by.  _Stars,_ his mind reminds him gently after a moment. 

Blinking twice, he tries to process what exactly is going on, tries to bring himself back into reality. He closes his eyes hard, working hard to bring back all the previous events of the evening.

“Imma go get you a blanket,” the man says, low and rushed, his voice hovering somewhere above Zayn. He doesn’t respond, too deep in thought as an inkling of the memory of the cake box comes flittering back. Then, the far away memory of sending Harry out with Louis so that Zayn could bake the cake as a surprise. More recently, the fire that had sprouted before Zayn had known what to do, barely calling 911 before the panic set in. And then the freezing, the blockage of any and all thoughts until the firefighter had lifted him up, mercifully saving him from the mess he’d made.

Suddenly, the fireman’s back by his side. He sets his hand gently on Zayn’s forearm, the movement jerking Zayn back to the present. His arm lurches at the unexpected touch, and he quickly pries his eyes open at that. He forces himself to sit up, moaning as he does so. Draping the blanket over Zayn’s now upright shoulders, the firefighter grins. As the blanket makes contact with his skin, Zayn’s body slumps into the fabric, feeling completely  _drained_ suddenly,like he’s just run a marathon and a half.

There’s a few minutes where it’s quiet between the two of them, Zayn continuing to catch his bearings as Liam begins to peel off the easiest parts of the hot and sweaty clothing now weighing him down. 

After doing so, he carefully looks Zayn over for any injuries. Finding nothing, he says quietly, “It doesn’t look like you have any bad wounds or anything, not really. You’re in good shape, man. Well… Except for the.” The firefighter’s eyes travel downward for only a moment before flying back up to meet Zayn’s with a gulp.

Cheeks flaring, Zayn remembers then the last part of what had happened only a few minutes ago. The realization he’d had.

And it’s finally enough to get him really moving again. He snatches the blanket from his back, moving it as fast as he can to cover his bare legs, only now finally starting to feel a bit cold. 

An awkward silence starts then, stretching on until the fireman finally blurts out, “Man of Steel, huh?” Of course that was the only thing he could think of to say. Smart.

“Well, the name’s Zayn, actually,” he replies with a look of chagrin, not able to meet the other boy’s eyes. 

“Liam,” the other man counters with a smile. “Didn’t think I’d ever get your name after that up there.” 

And then, the last part comes back as a sigh falls from Zayn’s lips. He shakes his head as if that will somehow make the embarrassing thought disappear. Rolling his eyes, he groans, “Instead you got me babbling on about your muscles. Great.”

Liam laughs then, a full and deep laugh, wrinkles crinkling around the sides of his eyes easily, as if the movement is familiar. 

“I’ve heard much worse, mate. Don’t worry. Shock makes people say and do crazy things. Promise.” At Zayn’s death glare, Liam continues, raising his hand in an oath. ”Fireman’s honor.”

“Don’t believe you,” Zayn grumbles, still squinting his eyes at Liam.

Liam pauses, licking his lips together as if biding his own time. As if trying to decide if he should say what he says next. 

“Well, let’s just say that it was a bit more welcome than some of the others I’ve had.”

Zayn’s eyebrows shoot up at this, and he finally lifts his eyes from his lap, where he’s kept them trained ever since he first got the blanket. 

“Welcome enough that you’d go on a lunch date with me?” Zayn whispers, mouth barely moving enough to get out the words. He’s surprised the words even come out, surprised they make it past his lips. But there they are and it’s too late now to take it back. 

“Well.” Liam stops, clears his throat. “No. Not from a person that just went through such a traumatic event.”

“Oh,” Zayn whimpers, and he imagines then that a fire erupts in the gurney underneath his body. He wishes it would. At least that would get him away from having to have to look this attractive firefighter in the eye after having now made a complete arse of himself for the third time in the span of only several minutes. 

“But…” Liam rummages around in the bag now sitting next to him, pulling out a black pen. “Call me tomorrow when you’re no longer in shock. Maybe we can work something out.”

And then his right forearm is gently being lifted, the soft ball of the pen tickling Zayn’s skin as Liam leaves seven numbers behind. 

And maybe, from now on, this pair of Superman boxers should be Zayn’s new lucky pair of underwear.

**Author's Note:**

> Just another older Tumblr drabble that I'm posting on here :) (so, if you've already read it there, sorry ;D)


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